Last night I bombed the inside of the chapel in-between the bank and grocery. I hid in the wreckage for 6 hours, but he waited. An arrow made of one thousand black bowling balls pointed to where he stood: on the doorstep, briefcase in hand. His sunburned face told me he'd been waiting long, so I rushed to him. He told me I was grounded for 40 weeks, and I said "sorry".

I told the police that I'd ruined the chapel, then I was grounded for 60 weeks. The town painted posters that said "YOU ARE A WHORE," and I cried because I didn't hate him.

He shook his head
painted a poster.

He and we never prayed unless we needed to.